Out in the imperial gardens beyond the Consul, Youri lay on his back in the grass and looked out at the view in front of him — an empire undone, a civilization that no longer existed by the time he was born. The horizon shimmered faintly with the glow of dying spires and drifting embers, all that remained of the once-mighty Baraken capital.
He could not shake a strange unease. By every account he had ever heard, the Baraka would go on to rule most of the known universe, and yet some unimaginable force would one day erase them from history altogether. What could ever have been strong enough to crush a power like that? The question circled in his head and found no answer. But like every great story, the Empire of Baraka would stay wrapped in mystery, and Youri, unlike so many people who chased answers, had no wish to find this one. For once, he was content with the silence.
It did not last long. Footsteps echoed faintly along the marble path behind him, and when he turned his head, the old Kaiser was walking toward him, leaning slightly as he came, his eyes calm but tired. He stopped beside him and smiled faintly. "You miss this, don't you?"
Youri gave him a small grin. "Yeah," he said softly. "I do."
A breeze moved gently through the garden, over the grass, through the trees, across the stones of a fallen empire. It was peaceful there, and it would stay peaceful for a few more centuries, long after both of them were gone.
Kaiser looked out toward the horizon with his long gray hair stirring in the wind. "You're Youri, aren't you?"
"Mm-hm," Youri murmured, his eyes still on the skyline.
"Then, Youri," Kaiser said after a pause, "may I ask you a favor?"
Youri turned his head lazily and raised an eyebrow. "And what could an emperor possibly want from me?"
Kaiser chuckled, hoarse but warm. "As you've seen, I'm not an emperor anymore. I've left that to a new generation. I'm only an old man now."
Youri smirked. "Alright then, old man. What can I do for you?"
The wind rose suddenly and rustled the leaves around them. Kaiser stood perfectly still in it. "I want you to end my suffering."
The words hung heavily in the air, and for a long time neither of them spoke. Youri's eyes drifted down to the grass, and his jaw tightened. It was a selfish request — perhaps the most selfish a man could ever make — and yet, somehow, it made sense to him. Both of them had lived with their own demons and carried the weight of the choices that had made them who they were. The only difference between them was that one of them still had a second chance, and the other did not.
Kaiser broke the silence. "When I was younger, I used to come here often," he said, almost to himself. "Whenever I needed peace, or clarity. I would lie here just as you are now and close my eyes and let the wind take me. It always made me forget — the noise, the blood, the politics, even the guilt." He looked up at the endless sky with his eyes clouded by memory. "It's comforting, isn't it? The way the wind feels like it sweeps the past away, back to wherever it came from." His voice grew deeper. "I know that what I'm asking is selfish. I lack the courage to do it myself, and that truth haunts me. But I've learned to live with my limitations. And you, Youri…" He turned his head and met the younger man's eyes. "You have what I never had. A second chance."
The wind howled louder through the garden, tugging at their clothes and hair. Youri stood up at last and brushed the grass from his hands. He walked over to stand beside the old Emperor with a faint smirk on his lips.
"Everything has a price," he said quietly. "We just never know when we'll be asked to pay it."
A single shot rang out.
Kaiser lay back in the grass with blood spreading dark and deep beneath his robes from a clean wound just above his stomach. He let out a slow breath as the breeze washed over his face one last time. "Tatiana," he whispered. "Oh, how much I've missed you." His eyes fluttered shut, and the wind carried his last breath away.
Youri stayed beside him in silence until the end. Then he turned back toward the palace with the long shadow of the Consul stretching out behind him. Before he walked away, he glanced up at the bright skies of Baraka and spoke softly, almost to himself.
"I don't know if you'll find her up there."
Aboard the Tartarusios, the engines hummed low and deep through the ship like a sleeping giant. In the control room Zoma stood at the viewport with the light of the Empire below reflected in her eyes. Her mission was complete. She had fulfilled the purpose left to her by the one who came before her, and now she could finally do what she had been made for: guide the Baraken Empire toward the height of its destiny. Her existence was mechanical, but in that quiet moment, as she looked down at the world below, she felt something unfamiliar. A glitch, perhaps, or something deeper. For a fleeting instant, Zoma felt sad.
The doors opened. The crew came in — Oscar, Bjorn, Halley and the others, their faces drawn but determined.
"Zoma," Oscar said, "did you set the coordinates for the Tarcl particles?"
She turned to him with a faint smile. "Of course. You helped me complete my mission, and as I promised, I have entered the coordinates."
Oscar let out a breath of relief. "Finally. It's time to go home." Then, after a pause, he added with a half-smile, "I can't say it's been a pleasure, but… thank you, I guess."
Zoma tilted her head. "No need to thank me yet. Save it for when you get home. Who knows? We might meet again."
Oscar held his hand out toward her projection. "Can't say I'm looking forward to it. But if we do, let's keep it in our own timeline this time."
Her holographic hand touched his. "I hope so too," she said softly.
The doors opened again a few moments later, and this time it was Tarko who came in. A few hours earlier, after Kaiser's final decree, he and Oscar had stood together on the steps of the Consul looking out over the capital. "So," Oscar had asked him, "what are you going to do now, old man?"
Tarko had smiled faintly at the horizon. "I don't know. There isn't much left for me here. But one thing I've learned is that hope doesn't die. It just gets lost, and we have to find it again."
"That's good to know," Oscar had said with a chuckle. "Here's a little hint, since I like you. Things won't be so bad after this. There's peace coming. Eventually."
Tarko had nodded, and then, almost shyly, he had asked, "You said you're from the future. Would there be a place for a man like me there?"
Oscar had burst out laughing. "Our time isn't that different from this one. Before we got here, the Emperor put a bounty on our heads. The ship is running below full power, and we're a long way from base. So yeah — we're in deep."
Tarko had laughed too. "You beat this whole Empire while you were handicapped? No wonder they threw me in the Labyrinth. I fought them once myself."
Oscar had grinned and clapped him on the shoulder. "Then climb aboard, old man. Just don't regret it later."
The engines of the Tartarusios roared to life and shook the ground as she rose from the capital's fields, with the coordinates set and the way home finally open in front of her.
Centuries would pass. The Baraken Empire would rise again, conquering, uniting, reaching every height the universe had to offer, and yet through all that time one story would never fade: the legend of a single mysterious ship that brought an empire to its knees and then vanished without a trace. They called it Celestia.